


Avarice

by 111 (Insert)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Collars, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, speedwriting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insert/pseuds/111
Summary: In which dating Yuki Judai is complicated for reasons besides his tendency to get lost in no-reception areas and his penchant for stumbling into high-stakes duels.Or: Manjoume Jun learns a thing or two about draconic behaviours.
Relationships: Manjoume Jun | Chazz Princeton/Yuuki Juudai | Jaden Yuki
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Avarice

**Author's Note:**

> it’s 2020 and i’m thirstposting on main.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> \- Please note the above tags and rating.  
> \- This is a post-canon fic and consequently references seasons 3 and 4. Everyone is roughly 23 years old.  
> \- Most of the NSFW content will be in the second chapter, so...note that. This is largely the buildup/setup. I had originally meant to update my OT3 fic for December but then... This is a thing now.   
> \- Note that I may update the tags for later chapters.   
> \- Orange eyes: since flashback!Yubel has green eyes, I think it's reasonable to assume that the orange comes their...dragon side? Perhaps? So, Judai gets orange eyes later in this story, which...I'm not going to reconcile with Yubel!Johan because oh my god has this already spiraled out of control-

\---

"...What did you just say?"

"That I should go soon?" Judai repeated, tacking on a question mark at the end for reasons that were both mysterious and  _ likely  _ hazardous to Manjoume's intelligence if he tried to figure them out. So, wisely, he didn't. Instead, he clicked his tongue and arched an eyebrow at the hero duelist who was currently crawling off of their couch and heading to the kitchen.

A classic avoidance method. 

He deeply loathed Judai and his dumbass habits sometimes. 

"Let's just review the facts then," Manjoume began, loud enough for his voice to carry and drown out the mid-duel commentary blaring through the speakers. The match was a rerun, and not even one of his own. "Tomorrow is the start of the weekend, which, as I've  _ tried  _ to drill into your head, is one that I'm actually  _ free  _ for. Aren't you also dying to go to, what, the new Kaiba Land project? So, logically speaking, it's irrational for you to go running off into the distance."

When Judai didn't answer him, messing around with the kettle by the sounds of it as an alternative, Manjoume scowled at the television like  _ it  _ was the source of his indignation. He imagined it sparking and then crumbling into a pile of burnt-out black waste. 

...Fine.

No one had ever claimed that dating Yuki Judai would be easy. 

Then again, Manjoume Jun prided himself on his persistence, and fuck if it wasn't worth it in the end. 

Even though his 'day' had spanned across three different timezones and contained enough hours to make even a workaholic like Edo Phoenix do a double-take, Manjoume stood up from the sectional, mentally prepared himself for the duel of an argument likely waiting ahead of him, and walked into the kitchen -- a nondescript entity except for the random shit he kept dragging into it, accompanied by the even  _ more  _ random things that Judai would find and shove in whatever drawers he could. 

Their shared apartment in Domino City could not be described as neat, but it functioned regardless. Winged Kuriboh was a troubled ball on the nearest counter, and Judai, engrossed in moving around glasses on the drying rack, was being exceptionally unproductive. A giant neon sign pointing to him and reading 'UPSET' would have been wholly redundant. 

"You can talk, by the way."

At that, Judai sighed, his shoulders drooping, but Manjoume didn't crowd in, not yet. His approach was decidedly tactical.

He reminded himself of that as Judai turned around, his mouth a tense line and his eyes trained on the tiled floor, as if it held the answers to anything. 

Or, as if there was a justification for why he  _ should  _ avoid Manjoume. 

Although Judai had wound up being  _ slightly  _ (almost insignificantly) taller than him as an adult, strange moments still existed where Judai seemed to shrink in place, head bowed and eyes averted in response to turmoils that Manjoume could never fully rip away from him. It was frustrating, failing another like that. 

While Judai alternated between keeping the back of his head neatly trimmed or wild and overgrown, his careless approach to his bangs had remained a constant, and now, they served as a convenient shield. 

Tactical approach.

_...Tactical  _ approach.

Breathing in, Manjoume said more stuff, his arms tightly crossed. If the Ojamas popped out of his deck at this brittle point in time, then he was going to take their cards  _ swimming _ . "Judai, I've pledged myself to you, and I haven't taken a single word of that confession back. If you can't trust anything else, then trust that I know who I am and what I want."

"...You're too good like that," Judai mumbled back, the syllables tangled-up, and while Manjoume just stared at him, Judai seemed to steady himself. An awkward smile appeared on his angular face, at odds with the almost-supernatural effect of it that Manjoume -- coming up with theories during long flights and while lounging in waiting rooms -- accredited to the Gentle Darkness and Yubel's fusion. Yeah, Judai was hot, almost  _ brutally _ so, but the effect was...something other than just bones and muscles and human matter. 

The effect tugged at him now, a distracting thing since- He should be  _ helping  _ Judai, not...gawking at him for standing there in a faded hoodie and jeans. How fucking  _ revolutionary _ . 

"'Good' is a start. I'd prefer 'amazing'."

Judai's laugh was small, but he'd take it. "Okay, you're that too."

"Well, if that's true, then you can't be worthless, since you're the person I'm dating. That means I'll listen to whatever you want to tell me right now."

"So, I'm caught in your trap then…" Shaking his head, Judai straightened up, enough for their eyes to meet. Judai's were honest, warm. The new curve of his smile was like an apology. "You sure you want to know?"

"Ask me another trick question and you'll be sleeping on the floor, slacker."

Judai leaned back against the counter, absently correcting an Ojama mug before it could go flying off and meet an untimely demise. Concentration brought his eyebrows together into a tense 'v'. 

"...Did you...do anything illegal?"

Snorting, Judai replied with, "Not to my knowledge."

"That's not a helpful answer."

He could sense the change as it happened. Judai had picked his approach, and he was going to use it. The tension flipped like they were in a duel, and that final direct attack? It was coming, now. 

Despite all of that, Manjoume Jun was absolutely not prepared. Not even close. 

"Tomorrow is the start of my dragon side's mating cycle."

A stranger collection of words had, in Manjoume's esteemed and informed opinion, never been assembled in any language over the course of human history. Damn, actually, no. Since the beginning of the universe, right down to all that bullshit about cards and reversed cards. 

Still, he  _ was  _ Manjoume Thunder, so he recovered. 

Sort of. 

"...What?" was his exceptional answer, given the circumstances and the  _ chaos  _ swirling around inside his head. Yeah, Judai had a dragon side, inherited from his past-friend-and-former-brainwashed-supervillain-who-was-now-the-card-spirit-and-soul-partner-and-winged-piece-of-sarcasm Yubel, so that part was a goddamn breeze to comprehend, an easy 10/10. 

The rest of the sentence remained a problem. 

"The first time it happened, I was just traveling by myself, so I isolated until the feeling wore off," Judai quickly explained, and while Manjoume  _ generally  _ appreciated it when Judai maintained eye contact, it was a strain on his sanity now. "After, Yubel explained to me that they had normally hidden themselves away in their past life whenever it had happened, which means that I had made the right decision. But...we never could figure out the timing of the next cycle in this reality, since it's based on an ancient calendar that doesn't exist anymore. ...Turns out that it's about two-and-a-half years, give or take."

"Okay."

Judai continued, frowning to himself. "That feeling, it...built up over time, and because I can barely sense it now, that means I should be able to get away from the city. Once I was in its grip, it lasted for about twenty-four hours last time, so…" With a much brighter laugh than before, Judai rolled his amber eyes, and Manjoume's heart had found its new purpose, which was to violently smash itself through a too-fast, death-metal sort of rhythm -- something from the weird 'goths playing guitars in the forest' genre of music that Johan posted about on his social media and usually made Manjoume hurl his earbuds off at mach speed. "Hey, maybe we can still ride the rollercoasters on Sunday night. Sounds fun, right?"

The concept ( _ mating _ cycle) had Manjoume in a fatal grip, and he wasn't struggling back against it half as hard as he  _ should  _ be.

"Does it hurt you?" he asked, and Judai responded in typical style. 

"What, riding rollercoasters?"

"No, dumbass. Your...cycle."

Chin down, Judai broke the eye contact. A small mercy, from Manjoume’s warped perspective. “Let’s just say… It’s nothing I can’t handle,” was the reply, which was Judai-speak for ‘this shit is agonizing’. Manjoume exhaled sharply, bit down on a rant.

Tactical. 

_ Approach _ .

“Okay, but there has to be a better way to deal with it.”

The chuckle was very nervous, Judai’s fingers twitching over the counter, and while most people -- even oh-so talented spirit duelists like  _ Johan  _ ‘regarded by Pegasus as a prodigy for some reason even though Manjoume also existed’  _ Andersen _ \-- couldn’t track Yubel at all, Manjoume did not belong to the category of ‘most people,’ especially not after growing stronger in his own ways. Therefore, when Yubel began to mutter to Judai in a chiding tone, he could sense it, perceive it. 

Sure, the words were garbled, but he was still exceptional for hearing them in the first place.

In contrast to Yubel’s half-heard speech, Judai’s answer was one deadpan sentence, the delivery of it a  _ bit  _ too close to mocking.

“Thunder, it’s a mating cycle.”

Really, he was  _ this  _ close to storming away, and yet Manjoume stood in place and faced this moron who he happened to be in love with to a pathetic, world-overturning degree. The transparency of Yubel flickered from just over Judai’s shoulder, their full lips quirked up and their harlequin stare calculating.

Under no circumstances did Manjoume’s face heat as he gave a level-headed and reasonable response.

“But we’re dating. W-Why is this even a problem?”

Judai blinked at him like he’d suggested that shredding all those Neo Spacian cards was, actually, a great strategy and they should get on it immediately. Yubel was less subtle and far more condescending, phasing closer to their reality and letting their form solidify, the colours rich over their colliding textures. Skin. Scales. Leather-like bits, plus some talons and spikes. 

“Oh, Thunder, Thunder…” Yubel purred out, their clawed foot clicking against the extremely-susceptible-to-damage tiles and their cheek marks rounded from how pleased their smirk was. “I’d  _ hate  _ to be the harbinger of bad news. The truth is simply that a human like yourself might not be able to... _ endure _ , let’s say, the full effect.”

“...The fuck are you talking about?” Manjoume snapped back, his glare locked on Yubel’s orange-green irises. “What gives you the right to make... _ statements  _ like that when  _ you’re  _ the one passing your...dragon... _ hormones  _ onto Judai and causing problems for him?!”

With a tut-tut-ing noise (that led to a serious increase in Manjoume’s blood pressure), Yubel pouted and crossed their muscular arms across their part-armored, part-bared chest. “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It’s unbecoming for someone who wants to be a ‘great tactician’.”

“A-Are you implying that I’m  _ not _ -?!”

“Because of our fusion, whichever one of us is the…’most corporeal’,” Yubel stated, sounding out the term like they were talking to a moron, “seems to bear the brunt of this cycle. You know that Judai can be stubborn to an inconvenient extent, just like I do. I assure you that I’ve made my protests heard, useless as they have proved to be.”

Judai, who had already shifted off to the side and was back to frowning at his surroundings, spoke up at that. “We’ve been pushing the limits of our powers a lot lately. I’m not going to stress you out over this.”

“Hmm. Your ‘hero’ complex is asserting itself again.”

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Judai said, and Yubel only shrugged. And, yeah, this situation was giving Manjoume a headache, on top of the travel fatigue winding through his system and the weird, rapid function that controlled his heart now. Regardless, he stood his ground, even if it only amounted to a few grimy tiles.

“Look, whatever. Who cares,” Manjoume hurried out before Yubel could annoy him to death. “There’s one solution here, since Judai...rolling around in a cave and hating every second of it isn’t acceptable. That’s my executive decision,” he snapped, Judai  _ about  _ to interrupt him but, hey, good luck with that, slacker. “Also, I did  _ not  _ take two days off and travel all the way here so that I could be tossed aside just because of some...weird...dragon anatomy...thing.”

“It’s not-”

“You have to include me in this. I’m using my favour.”

Yubel barked out a laugh. 

Judai, at the opposite end of the spectrum, smacked his forehead with his palm. 

"Jun…"

_ "What? _ "

"You...can't use a favour like that," Judai stated, as if he was right. Which he  _ wasn't _ .

"Uh, yeah? I can?"

"But you're helping  _ me _ ."

"D-Don't tell me what to do?!"

"I'm not, but you don't-"

So, the argument was off. Running wild. 

Judai ran a hand over his features as if to shove them into a more neutral, less obviously pained formation, and Manjoume was in his zone, his element. As a professional duelist, he engaged in tough and tension-ladened competitions on the  _ daily _ , whereas Judai -- as a not-professional slacker -- was more likely to get pulled into wacky spirit-themed dimensions or...get incredibly lost, with the occasional high-stakes duel thrown in for variety. Therefore, Manjoume expected to  _ win _ . 

Favours were an important currency between them. The whole thing had started with him asking (or...begging, depending on the interpretation) for Judai's help during the whole 'Mike the producer' debacle, and Judai had cashed in that favour a few months after graduation to sleep on his questionable-at-best spare futon and raid his kitchen. Although, Judai had then turned the dynamic around to beg (really, truly beg) for a favour when, through a series of supernatural-mishaps, Judai's deck was stolen. And so on, and so on. 

The current stats were as follows: Manjoume didn't owe this slacker  _ anything  _ but Judai? He owed Manjoume one favour.

"You're not getting out of this," Manjoume found himself growling back, ignoring as best he  _ could  _ that Yubel was eating his wafer crisps, the package a hopeless mess of shredded plastic in their claws. 

Judai's voice was tight, his hand just permanently affixed to his forehead now. Or,  _ well _ , that's the impression he gave off. 

"You're not getting it. I won't be in control."

"...Okay? You say that like you're not already an impulsive moron underneath all the hero rhetoric."

Their eyes met, Judai's frustration sharpening the already-steep angles of his face. Bits of orange hung in one eye, fluorescent. "I can hurt you. I'm not...prepared to do that," he said, biting off the final words, and Manjoume got it. He understood. 

He still yelled back. 

"Okay, but why would  _ I  _ be okay with you running away?! Like… Damn it, Judai. If we're together, we can figure the fucking details out. Maybe...Yubel can choke you with your own random...shadow...whatever powers if you stop listening to me. Something like  _ that. _ "

"Ahh… With an attitude like this one, you might actually measure up," Yubel drawled out as unneeded commentary, and Manjoume winced as they rattled the bag obnoxiously, licking the crumbs off their talons. 

Urgh. 

"I  _ was  _ paying attention earlier. Judai said that in your past life, you  _ usually  _ hide yourself away from others. That means there were exceptions."

Yubel just kept on searching for crumbs. "True, and yet some key differences between yourself and the prince should be emphasized. For one, he was a trained fighter and in excellent condition after he had taken the throne and I had matured. Although, well, I did have to be careful with him nonetheless," Yubel drawled out, balling up the package and then showing most of their teeth, the effect that of a shark circling its prey. "After all, the ruler of a kingdom should not enter a royal court fatigued, limping, and covered in his most loyal knight's bite marks, now should he? I also would never have allowed him to leave until the cycle had ended, which could have led to...complications."

Manjoume had many questions. But, screw it. 

He strode towards the fridge, took out a beer, and made for the couch. 

"Well,  _ I'm  _ better than any  _ prince _ , so there's no argument, is there?"

Without turning around, he knew that Yubel had gotten bored and phased away, the wrapper crunching against the counter as it fell. Judai, heaving another sigh, followed him, and when Manjoume craned his neck back, he found that Judai was... _ better _ , sure, despite a troubled edge staying visible. His eyebrows were all tense again. He looked about ten second away from screwing off to haunt the city for an hour, minimum.

"Not your favorite subject to discuss, is it?"

"...Nope," Judai admitted with a tired shrug, a smile present and dimly reaching his eyes. "I'd rather check out the VR center at Kaiba Land or the new launched rollercoaster."

"Knowing  _ you _ , you'd end up dueling on a damn rollercoaster."

"...Anything is possible," Judai replied, and he pivoted on his heel, probably heading up to mope on the roof. Manjoume caught his sleeve. 

In an instant, the tension was back, an environment that complemented the mad pace his heart still obeyed, vibrating away like a malfunctioning part of his body's machine. And even though Manjoume's fingers were tangled in the frayed threads of Judai's hoodie, it was as if  _ he  _ had been gripped by Judai instead. 

"It's been over five weeks since I saw you," Manjoume began. That was a consequence of his own schedule and Judai's adventures in that wide, open world of theirs, and when Judai nodded slightly, he continued. He did not glance away. "Judai, you've read the stuff I've been texting you. You know that I want you to fuck me."

At that, Judai stiffened, and Manjoume watched as he slowly took a breath, deep enough to make his chest roll up and his nostrils flare out. Bits of orange stayed in his right eye, a part of Yubel lingering on and peering out. 

A smirk flashed across Manjoume's face, and it had an effect, Judai's eyes darting down to the line of his mouth, taking it in. Come on, slacker. There's no need to be  _ shy _ , is there? 

"Want me to repeat that?"

His Adam's apple bobbed up, and Judai took another steadying breath. "I'll...ask you for that tomorrow."

"Suit yourself. Just don't stay up there all night, freezing your ass off."

Judai blinked at Manjoume as if most of his not-dragon-related habits weren't as  _ basic  _ to perceive as the nose on his face. "Not...planning on it, but get some rest, alright?"

" _ You're  _ telling  _ me  _ that?" Manjoume shot back, pointedly taking a sip of his beer and jacking the volume up on the current duel, and after picking up a ratty windbreaker, Judai was off to heroically stand on the completely undecorated top level of the apartment building. Judai's last- _ last _ -gen cellphone lay on the coffee table next to Manjoume's passport and some old travel receipts. 

So, he really needed the quiet, did he?

"It'll all work out, slacker," Manjoume grumbled against the top of the bottle, letting the television suffer the full force of his overtired scowl. The taste barely registered. The bottle mostly gave his hands something to do while thoughts churned away. "...It will. I've proven that I don't give up on you, haven't I?"

The television did not answer, as expected, and, snorting, Manjoume flipped to the channel that  _ he  _ was actually on. 

\---

The lights in the main room turned off automatically, a random thing Manjoume had rigged up  _ months  _ ago to make it easier to just pass out from jet lag or whatever. Usually, all  _ that  _ did was make him trip over his own furniture in a late-night stupor. 

Like right now. The coffee table's corners had clearly been designed to brutalize shins, his shins specifically. 

"I'll turn you into firewood," he grumbled at the inanimate piece of furniture before taking a final swing of beer number...something. Although two hours had gone by, the Judai-shaped hole in his apartment wasn't alarming -- Winged Kuriboh knew better than that slacker did, and since the spirit wasn't here beeping for his attention, Judai was just...Judai-ing outside of Manjoume's peripheral vision.

Everyone had their quirks. So, whatever. 

It wasn't like he didn't  _ understand  _ it, Manjoume thought to himself as he staggered into the bedroom and tossed his signature black coat over his shoulder. If he had some...overwhelming, mind-altering  _ thing  _ that threatened to come out of nowhere and make his life awkward, at a minimum, then he would have...grappled with that. If that same situation had the potential to hurt someone else, he would have struggled so much harder, since he, like Judai, wasn't a bastard.

Whenever they ran into each other, Sho had a bad habit of claiming that Manjoume was 'the type to bite off more than he could chew'. But, no, that wasn't happening here. With Judai, the rules had always been different. 

Stripping to his skin, Manjoume dropped his phone in the gap between the two pillows and then dropped  _ himself  _ onto the mattress. The room was all black, isolated. The silence was in strong contrast to the ebbs and flows of an in-demand lifestyle. 

Two words swirled inside his head over and over again, like a pair of dancing figures inside a stubborn music box that just couldn't grind to a halt, no matter what. 

Mating. Cycle. 

Groaning, Manjoume rammed the heels of his hands against his cheeks. Fuck, he needed to  _ sleep _ , to approach all of this with a new perspective and some caffeine, and… Did dragons really  _ have those _ ? Since when? Was it an alternate-middle-ages-with-magic  _ thing _ ? Was-

"I hate everything," Manjoume grumbled to the impassive ceiling. Hell, if the Ojamas popped out, he would take actual, tangible  _ joy  _ in smacking them away. Or...fuck it, in  _ some  _ banter to stop his mind from...doing what it wanted to, the direction so natural to take. An effortless slide. 

After five weeks without Judai at his side, he would shake at even the suggestion of Judai taking him, those games over text messages both a salve for the need and literal torture. Masturbating was like adding time to an explosive strapped to himself that counted itself down, never actually  _ disarming  _ it, and fuck if he couldn't stand its weight anymore. 

Over the year that they had been together, it was as if he had accidentally rewired a part of his own brain, too many paths now heading past the usual stress-relief mechanisms of 'yell at his spirits' or 'watch dueling on TV' and instead heading straight for 'get railed by his former rival and not-quite-human love interest until his mind went blank'.

It was also a very,  _ very  _ direct way of experiencing their connection as individuals, all as a series of causes and effects carried out with naked, physical touch. 

So, yeah. Sleeping was complicated, especially since this was actually Judai's side of the bed. The fabric was embedded with his warming scent. 

_ A lot  _ of things were complicated, and Manjoume dragged the blankets up to his ears and burrowed in. 

Those two words danced on, content to torment him with the  _ meanings  _ they contained. 

\---

Morning unceremoniously smacked him with two back-to-back realizations within the first seconds of his own awareness. It was further evidence of the universe being a right bastard sometimes. 

First, Judai was not flopped-out next to him and dead to the world. 

Second, because Judai's deck holster was not lying on the side table in its normal spot, since Judai was 'careful' with his cards, Judai had likely not just left the room to shower or whatever. 

...Alright.

Hauling himself up to his feet, Manjoume shoved on some nearby clothes, made sure that his phone wasn't stacked with panicked messages from his manager due to a random career-related emergency, and opened the bedroom door.

Which he hadn't closed last night. 

Stretched out over the couch, Judai was on his side in an uneasy sleep, his face crinkled with worry and his fingers clenching erratically in the fabric over his chest: the...very familiar fabric, a cut of uneven black with a few holes visible even from Manjoume's position by the doorway. 

They  _ had  _ spare blankets. So,  _ logically _ , there had to be a reason why Judai was cuddling with Manjoume's 'Thunder' coat. 

When he spotted Winged Kuriboh floating by the ceiling like a balloon that someone had forgotten to clean up after a party, Manjoume felt his grimace turn into a glare. "Oi, fuzzball," he hurriedly whispered, and said 'fuzzball' proceeded to 'kuri kuri' out...something. It took him a second to process those squeaks. 

Judai...had been out later than expected because he had...bought… Bought a  _ what _ ?!

Screw the quiet act.

"What… What the fuck?!" Manjoume blurted out, analyzing the room with the fervor of a man who has misplaced his passport and has a flight in  _ right-now _ minutes. Dropping to his knees, he checked under the coffee table, finding only some discarded cans and the TV remote. Next was the kitchen, which yielded an  _ equal  _ amount of useful info, aka  _ none _ .

Running towards the front door, Manjoume had to pinwheel his arms for balance, narrowly avoiding a collision with the adjacent wall and their overburdened coat rack. In battered, simple grey, the case sat next to the door, carrying with it the impact of sealed radioactive material. Which...it  _ wasn't _ , given Manjoume's limited understanding of how this shit worked, but all the same, he wanted those clasps to stay closed, be bolted down.

All in all, it looked like a bulky, old-school case, the kind that the maintenance workers at his family's mansion had used to haul around their drills and portable saws with.

It was presented there as a tool, a part of a solution to a definable problem. 

Manjoume bared his teeth at it. What the  _ hell _ ?

_ "Oh, your reaction is just what I expected it to be,"  _ Yubel observed coolly, and Manjoume, for the thousandth time, lamented the fact that he couldn't just pivot and swipe their form away like that of an overgrown Ojama. Yubel, evidently, operated under different spirit rules, and that sucked.  _ "Although, you know how Judai can be. His stubborn nature shouldn't surprise you." _

"I'm holding you and that flying dustball responsible for...this  _ thing  _ being here at all," Manjoume grumbled back, making for the kitchen and slamming his coffee machine on as violently as possible. It protested with an echoing creak. 

Yubel only sighed from somewhere behind him. 

_ "Try analyzing the situation instead of simply reacting for once. Who knows? Maybe you'll discover a new interest." _

"You have to be joking, you piece of-"

_ "Isn't 'Thunder' your brand? How about a little lightning then?"  _ Yubel drawled out, and when the mocking laughter started up, Manjoume whipped around again. Some actions were intolerable. 

"Are you  _ trying  _ to help or not?!"

Yubel remained an intangible wisp of colour, their three eyes in focus compared to the languid blur of their body.  _ "I have simply reassessed the situation. As long as your attitude holds, you will be able to endure this. If you're anything like the prince, you may even enjoy the challenge,"  _ Yubel commented with an unfitting lightness, their gaze narrowed. The orange turned hyper-bright.  _ "Good luck, Manjoume Jun. While my senses will be open to the outside world, I doubt that you'll need my interference. You've always been...tenacious, if nothing else." _

"Just… Go annoy someone else," Manjoume snapped, and then time did a weird jump. His coffee seemed to make itself in the blink of an eye. He had inhaled half of the leftovers in the fridge without even tasting them, the containers getting thrown at the sink. While he couldn't see all of Judai from this vantage point, that shaggy head had stayed put on the armrest. 

Manjoume Thunder was not supposed to shy away from confrontations, especially those that challenged him to the core. 

Throwing his mug back, he drained it and set off towards the front door, grabbing the case by its creaky-as-fuck handle and setting it on a clean part of the counter. 

Before his brain could catch up with his actions, Manjoume clicked the clasps open and threw the lid up, exposing himself to what laid inside. 

Black foam compartments. Five pieces of hardware, each ring featuring two points on opposite sides, and the one at the top was by far the largest of them all. A smaller indention featuring what looked like a remote, a dial on the top. 

The last thing Manjoume had dragged into their apartment was a fan-made painting of himself, now hanging in the hallway from the front door to the main living space. Originally, Judai had wrinkled his forehead like he wanted to disagree but had then walked away to reorganize his deck for the gazillionth time. 

Now, the last thing Judai had dragged into their apartment was officially a shock gear set, a newer model than the one that the Hell Kaiser had sported and apparently (Manjoume had been sort of  _ brainwashed  _ at the time) dueled Sho with. The collar would be for the neck, the smaller bands for the wrists and ankles areas, respectively. 

A few minutes crawled by, Manjoume's eyes never straying from the polished bands and rivets, all in gun-metal grey. 

The set wouldn't be for him, not when Judai was the one concerned about going berserk. Therefore, the dial was for him to turn.

Those two words had never left him, not for a damn second, but their volume increased. In tandem, his heart kicked up speed. His mouth went dry. 

From only a few meters away, Judai stirred. He sat up, hair going everywhere in a messy crown. The coat started to slide off him, but he reached up in time, holding it to his chest. 

"...Judai?"

Judai turned back. Their eyes met, Judai himself framed by the white-blue glow of the city outside. 

Two thick, orange crescents hung over Judai's brown irises and crossed behind the two vertical lines of his elongated pupils. When he smiled back, Yubel's already-exaggerated canines had sharpened even further, and of all the questions Manjoume had, he heard himself shouting one of the  _ least  _ important.

"What are you...doing to my coat?"

Despite those blatant differences, the shrug was all Judai -- easy, loose. His smile perked up like he was about to tell a particularly bad joke. 

"It smells."

"... _ Huh _ ?!"

"It smells like you, once I ignore the old sauce stains," Judai clarified with a stupid wink. 

"Moron. If you want something that smells like me, then how about -- oh, I don't know --  _ me _ ?"

With a nervous laugh, Judai glanced away, standing up as he did and awkwardly dropping the coat on the table, the action far too stiff. "I...would've woken you up."

"Not necessarily."

"Rest is important though," Judai replied, letting out another nervous laugh and keeping the couch between them like a barrier. A simple, easy-to-climb one, but, sure, whatever. Aside from the bedhead, the day-old clothes, and the eye/fang combination, Judai appeared... _ fine _ ? On edge, sure, but he hadn't started breathing  _ fire  _ or any bullshit like that. 

The crescents hung in place as bright streaks of orange. As their stares remained locked, Manjoume swore that the crescents started to grow, overcoming the varied shards of brown. Judai never blinked. Not once. 

...Okay. 

"I...take it that the 'feeling' is stronger for you?"

Judai rocked back on his heels and -- despite freezing in place for a beat -- walked towards the far window, putting more distance between them. With the better lighting, the pink flush to his skin became identifiable, like the beginning of a bad fever, and he continued before Manjoume could. The words were both easy-going and also anything  _ but  _ that. 

"Yeah, although I can manage it. The, uh, collar was an idea I had last night. I know a former underground supplier," Judai said, because of course he did, and he ran a hand over the back of his neck, breathing deeply. "Apparently the newer leagues had a problem with duelists grabbing each other or even audience members to spread the shocks out. I've seen this newer model in action. The current only runs between the spikes, so the shocks don't transfer at all, even if two people are close to each o-"

"Why do you always get into fucked-up situations when I'm not around?" Manjoume grumbled, and Judai only paused long enough to roll his eyes, the effect  _ different  _ now. Goosebumps rose on Manjoume's forearms, his sleeves rolled up.

Two words. 

Two not-simple-at-all words. 

"I've just learned about a lot of things, and this system is one of them."

"I'll use it on you, if you want me to."

He heard it, how Judai  _ hissed  _ as his upper lip rose up to reveal more of his gleaming teeth, the orange spreading to coat the bottom halves of those irises -- as if they had been dipped in candied syrup. Just as quickly, he watched how Judai pushed  _ against  _ that reaction, setting his stare on the city outside. 

"Although I can't explain how," Judai stated, "I've also transferred more of my Gentle Darkness to Yubel. They can control me, if they need to."

"So, that's the 'second backup' in case you, what, try to eat me?"

Judai stiffened. His voice dropped, rattled with tension. "I don't want to  _ eat  _ you, Thunder."

"Yeah, sure…. Just… Okay, no matter what, I swear that if you do hurt me, I'll zap your brains out. It's like when we've rushed having sex before. I've either shoved you off or-"

"Hey, can you move back from the kit?"

"...Uh, sure?" Manjoume replied, making for the opposite end of the kitchen. Yeah, a part of him wanted to argue, but the analytical, curious part had seized control, fascinated as it was by every aspect of Judai's tensed form. "What, is my scent really that strong for you?"

Judai made a breathy sort of noise before walking towards the still-open case. "I can hear your pulse too. It's...a lot," Judai admitted, and when he stopped, regarding the contents, he pulled his hoodie and the shirt underneath it over his head. Threw them somewhere. Began picking the pieces of metal up. 

Manjoume leaned against the counter behind him, digging his nails into the surface and staring straight ahead. Of course he had seen Judai in less than this before, and yet...five weeks was five  _ fucking  _ weeks, and the immediacy of it all threatened to knock him dead, right there. While Judai was lean, a collection of sharp edges and places for shadows to dig in and collect, he had a layer of hardened muscle to him, most visible in his arms. 

Building off those lessons at Duel Academy from Master Fubuki, Manjoume could have written an entire poetry collection dedicated to the fucking  _ dip  _ before Judai's bicep met the rest of his arm, provided that Manjoume  _ also _ managed to hold a pen long enough to do so and not go berserk from how badly the image turned him on. If Judai-

If Judai could hear his pulse, then maybe those beyond-human senses could-

"You can tell that I want you, right?" Manjoume heard himself say, as if from far, far away. 

Judai paused, the collar unclasped and held in front of him. The sheen of the metal contrasted with the tan of his skin, the rigid shape of the collar itself strange against the natural curves and dives of his exposed chest. The orange had risen, consuming more of the irises, and the supernatural  _ charge  _ of his features was almost tangible now, as if the slit pupils alone didn't make it explicitly clear that Judai was not and  _ had  _ not been fully human for awhile now. 

"Yeah. I can," Judai said, and he raised the collar up and closed it, the hinge at the back of his neck. The spikes were on either side of his bronzed throat, and he quickly moved to click on the wrist guards next, then bending down to secure the ankle ones. Against him, the lines of the restraints seemed more  _ blue  _ than grey now, as if to emphasize how cold and lifeless they were compared to his skin. 

"Then what's the hold up?" Manjoume rasped back at him, and there was zero elegance in how Judai suddenly chucked the remote at him. Manjoume caught it with one hand, his eyebrows high. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"

"I can still push it away."

"Judai, you don't  _ have  _ to."

At first, the response was only a deep, rumbling growl, Judai spinning on his bare heel and making for the window again. His back was an enthralling mixture of deep valleys and tense peaks, old scars latticing the skin. Manjoume wanted to move, but he didn't yet. 

He glanced at the remote, the marks next to the dial indicating that it had ten settings. The last two were in red. 

"How far can I push this?" he asked, and that subject unlocked Judai's ability to  _ speak _ , which he did in a hurried tone. The constant fidgeting also reached a new level of annoying, from Manjoume's vantage point. 

"Go as far as you want to. The button under the dial resets it to the start position, so you don't have to crank down the voltage manually. The red button turns the shocks on at whatever value the dial's on."

"Huh. It's weird that the underground league has easier to use hardware than the  _ actual  _ professional league," Manjoume observed, turning the remote over once. Such an unassuming thing. "Seriously, those new duel disks are a pain. Don't get me started on those prototype 'D-Gazer' things they're trying to roll out. Urgh."

"You can test the system out on me. I don't care."

"Judai…"

"What?" 

"Just…" 

Trailing off, Manjoume made a useless gesture that Judai didn't even  _ see _ , engrossed as he was with the buildings and streets sprawled out below. Clutching the remote, the dial on '0', Manjoume steadied himself and then tried to speak as levelly and  _ not _ -pathetically as he could. It was tough, sure. Judai could probably even sense that. 

"Okay, Dragon Boy, how about this? I'll wait in the bedroom, and you follow me whenever you want. It's your move then."

A pause, weighted for each second that it lasted. Judai did not turn around. "Yeah. That...works."

"This counts as progress, doesn't it?" Manjoume grumbled to himself, walking out of the kitchen and making for the bedroom door, and his stare stayed on Judai's back, shoulderblades in shadow. 

He didn't imagine it -- how Judai breathed in with a low hiss as he passed by. The barrel of the hinge was in jet black, bordered by intricate mechanisms in the same metal as the rest of the collar.

"Just don't let me get  _ bored _ . Wouldn't that be a drag?" Manjoume called out as he sauntered over the threshold. There wasn't exactly a  _ manual  _ on how to reasonably chill out while your quarter-dragon boyfriend battles with his biologically ordained need to fuck you through the floorboards from a couple of meters away, and so Manjoume just...stood there by the foot of the bed, the blankets all screwed up from the night before. 

The card art for Harpie's Pet Dragon featured a ragged, fierce beast with a golden collar. Manjoume had faced a harpie player only a few days ago, the Solid Vision of the arena bringing out every fiber of the enthralled dragon's image, the spirit behind it glaring out with eyes of pure emerald. 

In that sense, a dragon with a collar wasn't...a new idea. It had a precedent. So, that meant Judai was like...his own captive dragon, sort of. Almost. 

Manjoume would take care of him. 

He really, really would. 

The remote held loosely in his right hand seemed heavier than before, and although  _ nothing had happened _ , Manjoume knew his breathing had gone shallow, his heart going full speed again at just the thought of Judai-

Bristling at the surge of heat coursing down his chest and pooling in his stomach, he shoved the remote into the front pocket of his ripped-up jeans and yanked his blue turtleneck up over his-

It was a reflex for him to strike out, his back suddenly against the wall. Judai was a solid presence, Manjoume's hands weakly clawing over the  _ hot  _ skin of Judai's arms and clenching as bared teeth scraped over his jawline. Pressing hard into him, Judai's body puzzled against his own from his chest to his thighs, strong fingers splayed over his stomach as if to scorch and burn their shapes in -- to mark him, just like that. 

"J-Judai?!" he yelped, trying to steady the person rocking against him, and-

There was the graze of those elongated teeth, and then Judai  _ nipped  _ at him, lapping at where the pain had shot out from before Manjoume could even open his mouth. The hurt was layered with something sweet, and Manjoume dimly heard himself whimper, digging his nails into Judai's arms. Even the breath washing over that place was heated, as if embers would spill out from between Judai's teeth. 

The only cold was from Judai's wristbands, and, registering that, Manjoume scrambled to find the remote. That was the deal, wasn't it? He was supposed to hold Judai's chain. 

The remote did fit his palm well, and Judai took that very second to use his teeth again, the prominent canines dragging harshly down to Manjoume's neck, the folds of his turtleneck shoved aside. Judai chased his pulse, all while grinding him into the wall and making the thick line of that erection all the more  _ obviou _ s. 

Simultaneously, Judai pinned him in place and made him shake, each quiver of his body eliciting low, rumbling growls.

If Judai wanted to fuck him like this, then Manjoume would tear down his own pride and beg for it. He'd give whatever Judai asked for, the heat intense like it could really fuse them together where their bodies joined. Each roll of Judai's hips made his own cock jump, and Manjoume tried to open his own jeans, pull them down. 

And  _ then _ Judai's hands were like manacles, forcing his wrists against the wall. The mouth over his neck clamped down, and after the  _ explosion  _ of that sensation -- Manjoume's head lolling back and his eyes unseeing -- Judai lapped again at the brutalized skin. Gently. Thoroughly. 

Each swipe of that tongue felt tender, and it made Manjoume even weaker, groaning and leaning against Judai. He drove his hips forward. 

"O-Oh, Judai…"

The hands over his wrists tightened in unison, and Judai inhaled sharply. He stopped. Straightened up. 

The orange had taken over completely, parted only by twin pupils in black, and Manjoume held the gaze that clearly, blatantly radiated power underneath the messy fall of Judai's bangs. The colour was stronger than it had been as an ornament in Yubel's eye. It was now that of a living flame. 

The rasping voice was all Judai's, his top lip curling strangely over the too-long teeth. 

"The last time this happened, I was caught off guard," he began, running his palms down Manjoume's wrists and -- after waiting for a beat as if to check that Manjoume would  _ really  _ hold that position -- then reaching down to toy with the hem of Manjoume's turtleneck. "Yubel and I were traveling to an isolated shrine, and they had already used so much of their own power for the journey."

"Uh… I...see," Manjoume said, and Judai dropped to his knees, his unsteady, wandering hands at odds with his controlled words. He nuzzled at Manjoume's stomach. Listening was a serious fucking challenge, Judai's palms drifting over his sides before suddenly gripping his ass. 

Judai  _ really  _ could have picked a better time for an actual  _ story. _

"They tried to calm me down, but I was losing my mind," Judai muttered over Manjoume's navel, hands still in motion. "Still, I found a cave in that part of the forest and barricaded myself inside."

"D-Doesn't-" Manjoume broke off, Judai licking towards his hip bone. "That doesn't sound fun at a-all, Judai."

Balancing on the balls of his feet, Judai looked up at him. "I had my phone with me. You had sent me all of your promotional photos."

"O...kay?"

The touches became more aggressive, palms ground hard against his ass and slowly, incrementally shoving his jeans off, Judai pausing long enough to pop the button of the fly with his teeth and then jostle the zipper down. He pressed his face against the front of Manjoume's tented boxers, never blinking. Each touch was a brand. 

Judai's control frayed with each word. Manjoume could hear that as he trembled in place and clenched his teeth. 

"Yeah, I had your photos, all of you dueling in front of a crowd of fans. Do you know what I kept thinking? Can you guess?"

"I-I don't-"

Working the jeans off Manjoume's legs, Judai's enraptured stare only glowed brighter, set on Manjoume's thighs and accompanied by the sweeps of his searing-hot palms. His mouth twitched around the syllables, a smirk beginning with a claw-like curve to it. "I couldn't stop thinking about how good it'd feel to fuck you on a stage like that, so that every single person who looked at you would understand that they can't have you, not for a second. And next, I'd…" With an actual  _ purr _ , Judai leaned in to press butterfly kisses to Manjoume's inner thigh, the smirk growing at each shiver. His teeth ghosted the same places after. "I'd cover you with marks like this one."

Judai bit down, and Manjoume's wrists were off the wall, his fingers in Judai's hair and forcing him still as Judai's cheeks hollowed out. The smirk had spread and spread, irises blazing, and even though it was awkwardly pressed between Judai's head and his palm, Manjoume could have flicked that dial and promptly hit the right button. 

He would have, if the  _ heat  _ of Judai's mouth hadn't made his already-hard cock ache with need. They were past 'wants'; he fucking  _ needed  _ this. 

"Y-You should have called me, m-moron."

At that, Judai pulled back, his stare narrowing. "We weren't together at that time."

"You're acting like I wasn't already obsessed with you back then ," Manjoume blurted out, and-

Again, Judai moved too quickly for him to follow it, his shirt suddenly in a knot around his arms and Judai tracing the shapes of his throat with shaking fingertips, the black of the dragon's dilated pupils fathomless, unending. He watched Judai's lips part, slick tongue flickering out to wet them. 

"You would have let me fuck you," Judai stated, the heat of his skin almost unbearable. 

Almost. 

"Yeah, of course. You can even fuck me right now," Manjoume rasped back, and it was as Judai hissed -- his nails digging in as precursors to the sharper bite of his fangs -- that Manjoume remembered something with a stupefying clarity. Judai had even said it just last night, so pretty damn recently. 

\---

_ "Once I was in its grip, it lasted for about twenty-four hours last time, so…" _

\---

His head thunked against the wall, a gasp wrung out of him as Judai lavished kiss after kiss over his jugular. Judai's erection dug into his hip.

It was very, very possible that a horny-out-of-his-mind Judai had gotten that number wrong, the estimate going  _ way  _ too high because… There was no way.

...Right?

\---

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays?!


End file.
